To be honest, I never knew when you were being honest.
While many use sarcasm as a fallback, as protection, as humor, you wore sarcasm like a well-fitting body suit, a mask that grew the shapes of your face.
I can picture you, hunched in your desk, scrawling on your paper, saturating the emptiness with lying truths that depicted the picture you wanted so badly to believe yourself.
And I thought I knew you. I thought I started to see the you that was so cleverly hidden.
And you're right--I wanted to be your savior. I wanted to be the light that shined in the shadows of your confusion, the lightning that struck solid truth and shattered it into your reality.
But, to be honest,
I never knew.
